Love Torn
by CedarWoodwalker
Summary: Jaeger struggles to balance his love for Mars and his need for a healthy relationship. Terry desperately wants to help his friend, but knows the decision isn't his to make. Mars/Jaeger established relationship; Jaeger and Terry friendship Warning: abusive relationship, alcoholism, internalized homophobia, domestic violence; M for language, violence, and sexual content
1. Chapter 1

My head aches. Even with my eyes closed the light is too piercing – too bright. I try to roll. To hide my eyes from the harsh light. I feel a familiar pinch in my arm – an IV. I'm in the hospital. Again. I cover my face with my other hand, trying to remember what happened.

"He's awake," I hear.

"Jaeger," someone calls my name.

I let one eye flicker open and groan as the light makes my head pulse more.

A warm hand touches my arm gently.

I open my eyes, squinting. Terry and Roxanne stand above me.

"Was?" I start to ask, my throat raw and dry.

"Hey, how you feeling?" Terry's southern drawl soothes my worry like water on a hot day.

I only manage a groan. I try to sit up. My head spins. I notice my arm is in a cast.

"Brocken's on his way still." Roxanne reassures me as they help me sit up in the bed.

"What happened?" I ask, reaching for the glass of water on my bedside table.

"You don't remember?" Roxanne responds, fear wavering in her voice.

"We were kinda hoping you'd tell us…" Terry drawled.

Now that my eyes have adjusted, I look at them properly for the first time. Lines of worry crease their faces. I shake my head, making it hurt even more. I moved my hand up to my aching head. There's a bump there that hurts when my hand brushes it.

I groan.

"Where's Mars?" I mumble.

Roxanne and Terry both flinch at the name. Panic surges inside me.

"Where is he?" I ask again.

"He's here too."

"Is he okay?"

Terry scrunches up his face. "Better than you."

I relax. He's okay. Why are they looking at me like that though? What happened – then a memory flashed through my mind. Mars. Angry. Screaming. In my face. I glance down at my arm and remember him throwing me on the floor. My forearm slammed against the solid oak chest. I winced at the memory. He walked towards me. He had a knife in his hand. When did he get that? Did he have that in the bedroom? I shuffled away from him, cradling my broken arm. My ribs ached with every movement from where he kicked me earlier.

"Remember now?" Terry sits down in the chair next to my bed.

"Bits…" Earlier in the night, we were making out on the couch. He pulled my hair a little too hard and I voiced my pain. He pushed me off the couch and into the coffee table. He laughed as I hit the floor. "And pieces." I groan.

"How did I get here?" I ask, the pieces refusing to connect in my mind.

"Ambulance. Neighbors called the cops cuz they heard screaming and thudding and barking."

"Gigi?!" I gasp, lunging forward so fast I feel something in my abdomen tear.

"Hey, careful," Terry gently helps me back down. "Gigi's fine. Trixie's taken him to our place."

I let out a sigh of relief. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to Gigi.

"Apparently he was defending you," Roxanne smiles sadly.

Terry let out a crass snort. "Yeah – apparently the worst of Mars' injuries are dog bites." He pauses, frowning. "At first they thought you'd beaten the shit out of him and ran. Then they found you passed out in the closet, phone in your hand."

"Gigi …" I mumble. "Bit him?"

Terry nods.

"Once they saw they state you were in though…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "Jaeger, I know… I know it's your life and-and you can do what you want with it, but I… I'm worried about. If… if they hadn't called the cops… you … you…" he shakes his head, voice tightening. "We don't want to lose you," he looks me straight in the eyes.

I avoid his gaze. Anxiety rises within me as I bolster myself against the upcoming discussion.

"They said you might not have made it through the night," Roxanne whispers, her arms wrapped around herself.

That gets my attention. I stare at her with my mouth open. I furrow my brow and glance at Terry. He stares down at the floor. "What?"

"You almost died last night, bud." Terry says. "That bastar-" I wince at the word and he stops himself, screwing up his face in the effort to hold the insults in. "he – he almost killed you."

I shake my head. Surely, they're wrong. Surely this is an exaggeration.

The door bursts open and Brocken flies into the room. His face drops when he saw me. Roxanne and Terry quickly move out of his way. He wraps his arms around me – the familiar musk of his cologne instantly calming me. He kisses the top of my head. I do my best to hide my pain at the touch, not wanting to cause him any more worry.

"What happened?" he asks, his accent strong in his duress.

I make eye contact with Terry whose mouth is open. I give him a smallest head shake. He shuts his mouth and looks away.

"Was just accident," I lie.

As Brocken pulls away to look at my face, I know he can tell that I'm lying. His face hardens.

"And where is Mars?" he asks pointedly, looking around the room.

"He's being treated a couple of hallways down," Terry responds.

Brocken nods again sharply.

"I'm going to go speak with your doctor," he turns and walks out of the room.

I open my mouth to stop him but can't find the words. I chew on my lip nervously before I realize that it is split and swollen.

I glance up at Terry. I see the disappointment in his eyes. I can't stand seeing it. I quickly look away.

"If you have to lie about it… it means something's wrong," he mumbles.

I stare down at my fingernails.

"Did I really…?" I begin, but I can't bring myself to finish the sentence. "Did he – was it really that bad?"

"We weren't sure you gonna wake up this time, bud."

I meet his gaze. I see the fear in his eyes. I look down at my blanket. I run my good hand along the coarse fibers.

When Brocken comes back into the room, he has a police officer with him. The officer goes over my options with me. He strongly encourages me to press charges. He insists we have more than enough evidence to put my attacker behind bars. The thought makes me shudder. When I close my eyes, though, I see Mars standing over me with the knife. Mars laughing as I hit my head on the coffee table. I glare at the shiny white floor. I think about Mars when we wake up early in the morning. When there's plenty of time before we have to get out of bed. We lay there, holding each other. His broad chest rising and falling gently. His stubble scratches my face when I kiss his cheek.

"I don't want to press charges," I mumble.

They either don't hear me, or they ignore me.

"I am not going to press charges." I say louder, more firmly.

Everyone turns to look at me. The arresting officer sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. I can tell he saw too many of these cases and just wants his shift to be over.

"Look," he says. "I can't force you to press charges, but…" he sighs. "At least think about it, okay?" Worry shines in his eyes. "What would have happened to you if we weren't called?"

I look at the floor again, avoiding eye contact with all of them.

"What I can do – am going to do – is require both of you to complete an alcohol rehabilitation class."

I recoil and my head whips up to look at him with disbelief.

"I'm not an alcoholic," I blanch.

He looks exasperated. "You had a blood alcohol content of 1.5%. That's…. usually 0.4% is fatal… I – I don't even know how you survived."

I frown at this. Had I really drunk that much?

"I'll go." I nod.

He lets out a sigh of relief. "Alright, good. First step is admitting you have a problem." He opens his mouth to say something but changes his mind. He turns to leave. "You have my contact info – please don't hesitate to use it."

A heavy silence falls across the room. I focus on studying the pattern of the stitches in my blanket.

"Can I see him?" I speak so quietly I almost don't even hear my own voice. When there's no response, I lift my head to ask again. Brocken stands with his head in his hand. Terry looks pointedly away from me, taking deep breaths as he clenched and unclenched his fist. Roxanne stands awkwardly between them, not meeting my gaze. They heard me. My eyes wander back to the pattern in my blanket.

"Can-" I begin again. Brocken lets out a harsh sigh that makes me flinch.

"We heard you," he growls. There's a long pause. "Don't you understand that he's the reason you're here?" His voice cracks.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, refusing to look up from my blanket.

I hear someone leave the room. When I look back up, Brocken is the only here with me. There's anger in his eyes, but his concern shines through more. He sits in the chair next to me.

"Why won't you press charges?" he asks gently.

I shake my head.

"An order of no contact?"

I stare at my hand gripping the blanket.

"I need to see him," I finally respond. He sighs. "This… we…" I stammer, trying to find the right words. "Something needs to change."

I feel him relax with relief to hear those words. He leans back into the chair and reaches over to hold my hand.

A nurse walks into the room.

"Are you sure you want to see him?" she asks me. I nod. She grimaces. "We're legally required to have someone present with you." I nod.

I look at Brocken and glance at the door. He gets the message, but he's not happy about it. He grumbles as he stands and leaves the room.

When Mars walks through the door, every muscle in his face drops. He pales. He stares at me. I shift self-consciously, realizing that I don't even know how bad I look. He slowly walks into the room.

His mouth opens and closes several times, searching for something to say. The nurse shifts uncomfortably in the corner.

I can see in his face that he's horrified by what he's done. He always is. I try to find something to say, but I can't. I don't know how long we stay silent, awkwardly avoiding each other's gaze while stealing glances.

Eventually he clears his throat. "I'm sorry," he says pathetically.

I let out a humorless snort. I shake my head. He bites his lip – his normal, intact, not-swollen lip – and looks away.

The silence lies heavily on top of us again.

"I – I don't remember any of it," he finally mumbles.

I look up at him, tired. I gesture to the chair. Hesitantly, he sits.

"What – " I sigh. "What do you remember?"

He looks up at the ceiling as he thinks. "We had wine with dinner – the nice dinner you'd made… for our anniversary," he grimaces. "We joked about going out to the clubs… we did some shots…" he trails off. "We played drinking Jenga and… and Gigi knocked it over…"

I shudder, remembering Mars' screams at Gigi. Looking at him, I know he remembers it too.

"I got angry…" he grimaces. "Did I – did I hurt Gigi?"

I shake my head. "No, I got in the way."

He furrows his brow and looks away.

"But… it must have gotten better…" he mumbles, desperately trying to remember through the haze. "I remember…" he glances at the nurse in the corner. "We made out on the couch… for a while…"

I nod.

"But after that…" he scrunches his face up. "It's all a blur after that."

I nod again.

"What do you remember?" he whispers, as if he was afraid of the answer.

"Only bits and pieces," I mumble, fidgeting with my cast. I take a deep breath and look him in the eye. "We can't keep doing this."

He closes his eyes. "I know," his voice breaks. "I … I don't know what happened last night, I'm sorry."

I swallow. "You got drunk and beat the shit out of me." I said plainly, knowing that my words hurt him.

He does his best to shrink into the chair.

"The police are requiring us to complete an alcohol rehab program." I continue. He nods. "I think we both need to get sober." My voice wavers. "This only happens when you're drinking." He nods. "Can you do that?" I ask.

After a pause, he nods. I let out a sigh of relief.

I reach out to hold his hand. Gently, he places his over mine.

For a little, we sit in silence. I can't help but to smile when I notice that Brocken is pacing in front of the door every few minutes, unsubtly checking on us through the window each time.

Eventually, Mars stirs.

"Well – I should probably let you rest." He stands. Kisses me gently on the head before he walks out.

"Do you need anything else from me?" the nurse asks. I jump – I think I'd forgotten she was there. I shake my head. As she leaves, Brocken and Terry reenter my room.

**Author's Note:** So not really your average Mars/Jaeger fics. Hopefully you like it in spite of that – please let me know what you think! Jaeger and Mars have been one of my OTPs for years, but as I've gotten older, I just can't see the relationship between these two being healthy. Part of my inspiration came from Ms. Kinnikufan's fic Ich Liebe Sie Nicht Zuruck, so definitely check it out if you haven't already! More to come!


	2. Chapter 2

When I'm released from the hospital, Terry insists on giving me a ride.

"Are you sure you want to go back?" he asks, his voice thick with disapproval.

I nod.

"You can crash at my place as long as you want…" he offers as we pull into my driveway. "You and Gigi."

I smile but shake my head.

"We're gonna get through this." I tell him. "We're going to get sober. And this will never happen again," I smile.

He shakes his head but puts the car into park.

When we walk through the door, I notice the entire house is spotless. Mars stands in the kitchen awkwardly. I smile at him. His lip twitches in a half smile, but his eyes are watching Terry.

Terry sighs. "You're sure?" he whispers. I nod. He pulls me into a gentle hug. "Call me if you need anything," he says in my ear. He lets go and walks to the door. He pauses as his hand reaches the doorknob. He opens his mouth but closes it and shakes his head as if sending a thought away.

"Love ya, bud," he says to me as he closes the door.

I smile back at him. When the door shuts, I turn to look at Mars. An awkward silence falls between us.

"Gigi?" he eventually asks.

"Terry's going to take care of him for a bit longer… to give us time to readjust."

He nods awkwardly.

"I uh, I got rid of all the alcohol," he mumbles, nudging a stool with his foot. "I don't know if… if you had any somewhere I didn't know about… I got rid of the stuff I knew about and could found."

"Thank you," I smile. I give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

I pause as I look around the kitchen, thinking. I chew on my sore lip absentmindedly.

"I don't think I had anything where you wouldn't have found it." I look through the cabinets just in case. Then I remember – I'd stashed away a bottle of scotch – a present. I make my way into our room. Memories of out last fight force themselves to the front of my mind. As I approach the wooden chest, my breath catches as if I'd been thrown into it again. I find myself gripping my cast. I try to shake the fear off.

As Mars appears in the doorway, I fish out the scotch.

"It was a present," I smile sadly.

He frowns as he steps closer. He lets out a sigh of appreciation and takes it from my hand. It's a 30-year-old scotch from a craft distillery that we'd once visited. I can almost taste the scotch we tasted that day. I gently take the bottle back.

"It was going to be for Valentine's Day."

He moans softly at the loss. "Thank you," he kisses the top of my head.

"Mm," I hum in response. I run my hand over the label lovingly. "What did you do with the other stuff?"

"Just poured it down the drain," he mumbled.

My eyes widen and I clutch the scotch to my chest. It would be far too wasteful to pour this unopened bottle of beautifully sweet 30-year-old scotch down the kitchen sink. I see in his face that he agrees with my unspoken opinion.

"Oh," my eyes widen with an idea. "I'll give it to Terry."

As Mars longingly examines the bottle again, I pull out my cell phone. The phone hardly rings before he picks it up.

"Hey Ter-" I start but he's already talking a mile a minute.

"I knew it, I knew, don't worry, I'm turning around now bud," I hear tires screech. "I'll be there in a few – do you need me to call an ambulance? Police?"

"N-no," I manage to say. I glance guiltily at Mars, who looked up at the tone of my voice. "Everything's fine. … No really I'm fine – I just have a bottle of scotch that I need you to take off my hands."

"That's it?" Terry asks. "Is this some safe word that I've forgotten. Yohoho and a bottle of … scotch? … No that's rum isn't it?"

"Terry," I say firmly. "I am totally fine. I just bought Mars a fancy bottle of scotch for Valentine's and I don't want it to go to waste. … Seriously that's it. Just want you to take the scotch."

"Oh," Terry mumbles awkwardly. "Well I guess I could probably manage that. I'm 'bout halfway there. See you soon."

I turn as I hang up the phone. Mars has left the room. That's probably for the best, anyway, with how much convincing Terry took to believe that I'm safe. He probably heard every word of it, but I can pretend for now that he didn't.

I find him in the living room. The bottle sits on the table. I sit next to him on the couch. I lean into him, and he lifts his arm so I can snuggle right in close. I feel a relaxed rush wash over me as I inhale his scent deeply. I hum as I allow myself to sink into his warmth. He gives me a gentle squeeze. We sit silently for a few minutes.

"Now what?" Mars' deep voice startles me out of a doze I hadn't realized I'd drifted into.

I mumble incoherently.

"Our first meeting is tomorrow…" I manage. "Other than that, and training, I guess there's not a lot that we have to do…"

We both start as we hear a car door close. Mars gets up to let Terry in. When he walks through the door and only sees Mars, and not me, panic shows on his face. It makes my stomach churn. He relaxes when he sees me on the couch. I glance at Mars – he's glaring at the floor behind Terry. He saw the worry in his face. I stand, pick up the scotch, and hand it to Terry. From the look on his face, I'm guessing he wants to hug me and never let go. Or at least stay the night – make sure we're alright.

"Remember," I say sternly. "It's for sipping, not shooting." I grin, trying to break the tension in the room.

Terry's eyes widen and he looks around the place in a panic until he realizes I was talking about the scotch I was holding out to him. So much for that joke.

"Oh yeah," he mumbles as he takes it. He pointedly makes eye contact with me and raises his eyebrows. He's checking that I'm alright. I give him a small smile and a slight nod.

"Alright, ah, anything else while I'm here?" He fidgets awkwardly.

I shake my head. "Thank, Ter."

An impish grin crosses his face, but it doesn't quite make it to his eyes. "No, thank you," he gestures to the scotch in his hand.

"Alright, guess I'd better be going," he walks to the door. "We still on for some light training tomorrow morning?"

I nod and smile, trying to pretend that I don't know that he's making sure he has a way to know that I make it through the night alright.

The awkward silence hangs over us again after he leaves.

"Ah – you hungry?" Mars eventually asks me.

"Ja."

"Ah – I didn't ah have anything…" he opens the fridge and scrunches up his nose at what he sees. "Ain't nothing in there…"

He grabs a menu off the fridge and turns to me with a bashful smile. "Take out?"

"Take out." I agree.


	3. Chapter 3

_Terry's POV_

Jaeger and I had agreed to meet up at 7 for our light training session. But I hadn't slept well. By 5 I was wide awake. So I got ready, and here I am, sitting in my car in Jaeger's driveway at 6am. I'm terrified of what I might find in the house this morning. But… an hour early… Jaeger's still recovering, he may need a lot of sleep. But if they got into a fight last night, I worry, I might already be too late. I chew on my lip as I struggle to word a text to send to him.

Movement catches my eye.

Jaeger opens the front door and waves at me, a sleepy smile on his face. I just about holler with relief. I get out of the car and make my way up the path. Jaeger stands on the porch, barefoot and in his pajamas.

"I thought we were going to meet up at 7," he yawns as he checks his phone.

"Yeah, I uh…" I rub the back of my head. "I'm a bit early."

Jaeger chuckles, but his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. He knows why I'm here.

"I'll just get dressed," he mumbles as he makes his way down the hallway. He comes back out with a pile of clothes in his arm.

"Ah – do you mind… helping?" He gestures to his cast.

Once he's dressed, he grabs his wallet and goes to write a note for Mars. He glares at his bandaged hand when it refuses to hold the pencil correctly. He takes the pencil with his left hand and writes a note. Although it's messy, he's far more coordinated that I am with my bad hand. He's had practice. The last time his arm was in a cast. When Mars tore it off. Fury boils in my throat, but I push it down. If I push him now, he'll push me away and then he'll just be left with Mars.

I want to tell him to get his stuff and move into my place. But I know him too well for that. He may seem like a sweet, gentle soul, but damn is he stubborn. I sigh. He finishes the note with a heart. I glare at the ridiculous little symbol. That monster doesn't know what love is.

At least, I tell myself, they have a plan this time. They're doing something about it. This time… Jaeger knows it's time to fix it or leave. What it'll take for him to leave, I don't know. I don't think really want to find out. But I hope he realizes soon that he deserves better.

Once I've started the car, he doesn't miss a beat before changing the radio from my country station to his rock station. I smile at the familiarity of our routine.

"What do you say we skip training today?" I ask.

Jaeger chuckles. "I was wondering what training you were going to make me do with a broken arm."

I force a laugh. "I don't believe Brocken's never made you train with broken bones before."

His eyebrows bounce up with a smile. "Fair, but you tend to be a little less strict than him."

"Breakfast?" I ask as I take a turn a little too fast.

"Mmm, ja."

"What do you feel like?"

"Something smothered in sugar," he grins.

"IHOP?"

He nods.

"So, how did last night go?" I ask Jaeger as we wait for our food.

He waves his good arm and shrugs. "Fine."

I squint at him as I overanalyze every gesture, every twitch, every frown. I never know if I should be reading in between the lines. "Fine" means not great. He looks tired. But he is still healing. I don't see any new bruises… but that doesn't mean they're not there. He squirms under my gaze and my stomach does somersaults. I hate this feeling. I hate making him feel like this. But if he'd just tell me the truth I wouldn't have to.

"It was just kind of awkward," he explains.

I furrow my brow. How could it not be awkward?

"I just…" he looks around, avoiding my gaze. "He's doing what he normally does but… well it's always awkward, but I think he knows there's more at risk this time."

I bite my tongue to stop myself from making a number of unhelpful, snarky comments. I push my anger down. It usually takes much more than this to get Jaeger to talk openly about the problems in his relationship, so I better do the best I can to support him and listen. Telling him to tell Mars to go fuck himself is only going to shut him down.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Well," he sighs. "He's doing the usual…" he waves his hand in the air. "Overcompensating – being extra nice, doing things for me, being overly sweet."

I nod, not trusting myself to open my mouth.

"I know what he's doing." He runs his hand through his hair. "I know this… we're… this is fucked up. This isn't okay. I …" his voice tightens and he shakes his head, looking down at the table.

"But you love him." I shrug. I don't understand how it's enough to stay, but I do understand that it's more complicated for him than it seems from my perspective.

He nods solemnly.

"What do you mean… more at stake?"

He looks at me, surprise widening his eyes. "This is it."

I wait for him to continue.

"I guess, I uh… I didn't say it outright… but I think we both understand that it's now or never. It's only a problem when he's drinking, so if he can stop drinking, we can work this out. We'll be alright."

I clench my teeth as I nod, trying to just let him talk.

"But if he can't…" his voice cracks and he looks down at the table again. My heart softens. Is he saying what I think he's saying? "I can't… we can't… it has to stop."

I nod softly and reach out to put my hand on his arm. I rub small circles on his arm with my thumb while he takes several deep breaths to compose himself.

We both jump when a plate of pancakes is lowered in front of me. I smile bashfully and thank the waitress. When I meet her eyes, I notice a knowing smirk and a glint in her eye. I hold back a chuckle as I shake my head. Another woman thinks we're gay. To be fair though, Jaeger is.

I watch Jaeger as he shakes off the somber conversation we were having. He meets my gaze.

"What?" he asks, head cocked to the side.

"Hm?"

"You're smiling – like something's funny."

"Oh," I grin. "The waitress definitely thinks we're a couple."

"She does?" he glances around nervously. He uncrosses his legs and sinks back into the booth in a poorly veiled attempt to appear more masculine.

I shake my head with a smile. I find it amusing, but as someone who is more or less in the closet, it makes Jaeger nervous.

"I don't understand why they always think that." He speaks in a lower tone than usual, feigning apathy but I can hear the undertone of worry in his voice.

I shrug. "They're just homophobic and not used to seeing men secure in their masculinity. Women touch each platonically all the time, so why shouldn't we?"

That incites a small smile from him.

I pull out my phone, open my notepad, and add another tick to one of them.

"How many times does that make it?"

"Twenty-eight," I chuckle.

He rolls his eyes, but he's relaxed and the smile on his face is genuine, even if slightly annoyed.

"What did you get again?" I look at his stack of pancakes, the sweet scent of cinnamon distracting me.

"Cinnamon roll," he grins as he cuts into them. "You?"

"Chocolate Bavarian," I bounce my eyebrows at him and he chuckles.


	4. Chapter 4

When I get back from "training" with Terry, Msars is standing in the kitchen awkwardly. I smile at him when I walk through the door.

"How was training?" he asks.

"Oh, we decided to get breakfast instead." I hang my jacket up and make my way to the couch.

He looks a little surprised. "Oh, what did you get?" He sits down on the far side of the couch.

"Pancakes," I grin, trying to force some happiness in this dry awkward conversation.

A smile spreads across his face. The first genuine smile since I got back from the hospital. It worked.

His smile turns into a pout when he says, "Without me?"

I laugh as I move down the couch so we're next to each other.

"We could go tomorrow morning, if you want."

"Mmmm," he grins and puts his arms around me.

We stay like that for a while, holding each other, enjoying the normalcy of some pillow talk.

I must have dozed off at some point. I wake up sprawled on top of Mars on the couch. My back and neck are sore from the strange angle, but I can't bring myself to move. I nuzzle further into his chest and close my eyes again. He snores gently and wraps his arm around me tighter.

I wake up as he stirs beneath me. I wiggle around into a more comfortable position and close my eye again, treasuring the warm sleepy comfort.

"Sorry, love, but I'm starving," he drawls thickly.

I pout and whine while I hold him close, trying to stop him from getting up and ruining my nap.

"Hey, c'mon, not all of us had a day's worth of sugar for breakfast," he gently extracts himself from my grip, his smile evident in his tone.

I chuckle as I push myself up, feeling heavy with sleep. But the couch is far less comfortable without him. He's moving around the kitchen while I try to force my eyes to stay open. My mouth is dry and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.

"What time's the meeting?"

"Mmm, four, I think?" I run my hands through my hair. "What time issit?"

"Quarter to two," he chuckles, "We slept for like, three hours."

I grin at him. "Must've needed it then. Water?"

He brings me a glass of water which I down quickly before pouting until he refills it for me. I smile to myself as a warm tingle spreads through my core. It's starting to feel to normal again.

"You didn't want anything to eat?"

I shake my head. He brings his food over to the couch and sits down beside me. I lean myself heavily against the arm he's trying to eat with. He pretends to be annoyed, but wraps his arm around me, switching his sandwich to his other hand. I steal a chip from his plate.

"Oi, you said you weren't hungry."

"Mnot, but smells good," I mumble, stealing another chip. He pushes me away, but I whine. "I'll stop," I promise, my arms wrapped around his waist. He relaxes and I restrain myself from stealing more of his chips. "Anything you wanted to do today?"

He shrugs. "We gotta leave in like, an hour and a half?" I nod. "If we left earlier, we could stop by the store."

"You need something?"

"Nah, just thought we could look around. Maybe get some new clothes."

I smile up at him. He knows I have a weakness for clothes, but he also knows I have more than enough already. He grins back, knowing that he's tempted me.

"Maybe we can fool around in the dressing room," he leers, eyes slowly tracing my body.

I laugh and push him gently. "I told you I'm not doing that."

"Why not?" he pouts.

"Because what if we got caught?"

"Aw c'mon, people do it all the time, they don't care, we won't get in trouble."

"That's not it." I mumble, looking away, heat rising in my cheeks. He knows I'm not ready to be public about my sexuality. He's teasing me right now, playfully pushing at my buttons, but I think deep down he's upset that I won't announce that we're together. But it's not him, it's… I'm nervous about how people would treat me if they knew. I've felt like a freak my whole life and now that's finally turned into something sort of okay. People don't stare at me know because they think I'm a freak or a fag, but because they see a strong, attractive man and, well, I'm not ready to let go of that.

"C'mon," he nips at my ear. I lean into his touch. "We'll be sneaky about it. They won't even know we're gay – I'll make you scream like a woman."

I scoff, rolling my eyes.

"What? You don't think I can?" He kisses my neck. "Pretty sure our neighbors thought we were a straight couple until they finally saw us together."

I fake an insulted gasp and draw back from him. His playful smile grows.

"I know just the right buttons to push to get you there," he grins cockily, pulling my hips against his and sliding his arms around my waist. I lean into the embrace, flirting with the idea of taking him up on his offer, when he startles me by slipping his hands under my waistband.

"Hey," I jolt backwards, jumping out of his reach. I open my mouth to tell him off, but I can't help but to chuckle at the fake innocent look on his face. "Come on," I grab his hand and pull him up off the couch. "You said you were going to buy me some clothes."

He laughs. "Funny, I don't remember saying that."

I pout up at him with big wide eyes. "You aren't going to invite me out on a shopping date and then make me pay for my own stuff, are you?"

He scoffs. "Who said it was a date?" he waves his hand apathetically before dropping it over my shoulder.

"You were the one asking to get it on in the dressing room."

"So?"

"So, that's a date."

"What, 'cause o' the sex?"

"Yes. If you go somewhere with someone and then have sex with them, that's a date."

"Tch, you're so _proper_." He hands me my jacket and pulls his on. "Sometimes it's just sex."

"Not with me, it's not."

After the meeting we decide to grab some dinner at our favorite Italian place. I find myself automatically perusing the wine list once we're seated. _Great_, I berate myself once I catch it, _one day out of the hospital, just out of our first meeting and here I am about to order a drink._ I swallow hard and glance over at Mars. He smiles warmly at me from behind his menu. I don't think he noticed. This might be harder than I thought it was going to be. I take a deep breath, tear my eyes away from their dessert wines, and peruse the smoothie menu.

"Can I get you gentlemen something to drink?" Our waiter asks.

"Uh – could I get a mango smoothie, please?" I ask.

Mars' eyes shine like he's holding back a smirk. "Coffee, please, black."

The waiter nods and leaves.

"What?" I lean closer to Mars.

"A mango smoothie?" Mars grins deviously, his voice thick with the laughter he's holding back. "And you were worried us doing it in the men's room would make people think you're gay?"

I shush him instinctively, my face immediately burning at both the mention of public sex in… well, public, and the implication that my drink order was going to somehow out me. "What's wrong with a mango smoothie?"

He raises his eyebrows sarcastically. "Oh, nothing, nothing at all."

"You never said anything when I've ordered piña coladas, or daiquiris," I mumble, at least familiar with that gay stereotype. Pretending to be an overly masculine straight dude is so exhausting.

"That's because they have alcohol and alcohol makes you loosen up," he quips back, his eyes narrowed flirtatiously. I blanch at him, my mouth moving silently as I try to figure out what exactly he means. "Don't underestimate my desire to rail you in the men's room." I just about fall out of my seat. Between his bedroom eyes, his mischievous grin, me trying to work out if he's joking or not (he is… I think), as well as my hyperawareness that the booths around us are all occupied, _and_ his tongue flicking out to slowly wet his lips, all the while being quite adverse to the phrase "rail you," I think I'm quite lucky I didn't pass out on the spot. A hand reaches towards me in my peripheral vision, and I just about jump out of my skin, half terrified and half prepared to subdue our attacker quickly. Then I realize it's the waiter with our drinks. I can feel my face getting redder, and I wonder to myself if they don't have the heat turned up just a bit too high.

"Oh, sorry, didn't mean to startle you," the waiter says politely. Mars is grinning from ear to ear with barely contained laughter. He's really enjoying this far too much. "Are you ready to order?"

"Ah, yes," Mars says, not missing a beat. I curse him silently. I hadn't hardly looked at the menu. I quickly examine the menu, before just going with my favorite dish. The waiter jots down our orders and nods before turning away.

"Oh, that reminds me," Mars starts, placing his coffee mug back down on his saucer. "We need more condoms."

I nearly choke on my smoothie, and I swear the waiter stiffens before hurrying away. A glance around the restaurant makes me think no one else heard him, although don't know how because I swear, he might as well have been on a stage, he spoke so loudly and clearly. I glare at him, and he simply grins back at me. He bounces his eyebrows flirtatiously, but I continue to glare. He rolls his eyes dramatically before he leans in and whispers.

"Oh, come on, I said it quietly."

I scoff indignantly and repeatedly, trying to think of actual words to say, but failing entirely. He leans back and grins, bumping our knees together under the table. Despite being annoyed at his antics, the touch soothes me enough that I can form a sentence again.

"Shall we stop by the pharmacy before heading home, then?"

"I was thinking we could drop by the little place on the corner of Main and fourth."

My skin crawls. The place he's talking about is an "adult store" that makes me blush even when I drive by it. "Oh, come on, you know I hate going there."

"So, you say," he takes another sip of coffee. "But that's where they sell that lube that you like so much."

I feel my face burn again and I start to wonder if I'm going to make it out of here in one piece. Mars certainly seems intent on riling me up tonight. At least he has the decency to whisper now. "I thought we had plenty left though."

"Not after last week," he says pointedly, staring into my eyes. My stomach drops as I recall our … shenanigans last week. I swallow hard and try to steady my breathing.

"Oh, alright then." I mumble, mostly so we can stop having this conversation. "But in and out quickly, okay?"

"Whatever you say," he winks at me.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Oh hey, this chapter has a m/m sex scene, so if you're not interested in reading that, you can skip this chapter without missing anything too important. Also, it's the first sex scene I've ever written so please be gentle :)**

By the time we get back home, I'm really quite tuckered out and, whatever Mars had planned for tonight, I don't think I'm going to be up for it. He heads into the bathroom and I go straight to the bedroom after setting our shopping bags down on the kitchen table. I manage to get my pants off by myself, but I realize I'll need his help to get my shirt off around my sling. I sit on the bed to wait for him.

By the time he comes back from the bathroom, I'm out cold. He sits me up and helps me to take off my shirt.

"What took you so long?"

"Long? I wasn't in there for five minutes." I moan at him that it must've been far longer than that, but I don't think he understands me. "Do you want your pajamas on?"

I groan what I think is an answer, although I'm not sure what it was supposed to be, and flop back onto the bed, blocking the light with my good arm. He sighs and I drift back off to sleep. I wake up a bit when he settles into bed next to me. I curl up next to him.

I wake up in the middle of the night, warm and cozy. I smile at the pleasant weight on me from Mars' arm and leg. The warmth of his body holding mine reminds me that I'm home and things are going to get better here on out. I sigh happily as I push myself further into his embrace. His arms tighten around me as he mumbles sleepily. I drift in and out of consciousness a few more times through the night. Mars' body presses into mine and he gives me fluttering, sleepy kisses when I stir.

When I wake up to his erection pressed up against me, my stomach flutters and my heart skips. I roll over to face him. The soft morning light gently lights the room through the curtains and birds are chirping away. His eyes are shut and his breathing heavy and even. He looks so peaceful and so gentle. He shifts slightly, pressing his pulsing erection firmly against me. I can't tell if he's awake or not. I wrap my free leg around his waist, pushing my pelvis against his. I shower his face, neck, and bare chest in gentle kisses. He stirs and sleepily kisses me back, although most of them miss me. He stretches, pushing his hips against mine, causing me to gasp. With a groan, he opens his eyes and seems to take in his surroundings for the first time. My erection throbs against his hip, and I'd be very surprised if he didn't notice. A seductive smile graces his lips, making my stomach flip.

He kisses my lips, soft and gentle, before making his way to my neck and ears. His hot breath against my skin makes me tingle. I moan and roll my hips against him. He rolls me onto my back and climbs over me. His smile is soft and loving, even as his member pulses against mine. He leans down and kisses me, nibbling gently on my lip before slipping his tongue across it. I whimper and open my mouth, softly licking his lips. His tongue slowly explores my mouth, rolling and massaging in ways that make my toes curl. He dips his hips just low enough for me to feel his erection grazing across me, teasing me as he moves back and forth while exploring my mouth. He breaks the kiss and I look up at him from under heavy eyelids.

"I love you," he murmurs into my ear.

"I love you too." I wrap my arms tighter around his shoulders, running my hands along his back as he kisses my neck and across my shoulders. I hum as he kisses down my bare chest, biting gently here and there, rubbing his belly against my erection. He flicks his tongue around my nipple, nibbling gently at it. I'm absolutely putty in his hands, and he knows it. He slowly makes his way down my body. He gently pulls off my boxers when he kisses his way down from my belly button, along the defined "v" at my hips, before slowly, tantalizingly taking the length of my member in his mouth. I can't hold back the moan as I arch my back, pushing myself closer against him. He gently sucks, twirling his tongue around me. I run my fingers through his soft hair, pulling at it gently when he hums, the vibrations nearly sending me over the edge. With a pop, he pulls away and slides his way back up to my mouth, kissing and nibbling the whole time. I smile and pull him down for a passionate kiss. When I let go, he glances over to the nightstand.

"Where's the bag from last night?" he whispers gently into my ear, his voice sending chills down my spine.

Through my muddled haze, I realize I must have left it in the kitchen with the other shopping bags. I tell him this quietly, not wanting to ruin our moment.

"Hmmm," he considers, opening the drawer, "They're might be just enough… Aha," he triumphantly holds up a mostly-empty container of lube and our last solitary condom. He quickly slides his own boxers off, puts the condom on, and squirts some lube onto his fingers. As he reaches around me, gently working me open, I squirt some lube into my own hand and run it along his member. He quivers under my touch and I hear his breathing quicken. I gasp as he prods his fingers into me. I arch myself up against him, rubbing his erection fervently. Once he's done prepping me, he pulls himself out of my grasp and gently slides into me. The sensation is so overwhelming I forget to breath. All I can do his hold onto his shoulders has he slowly thrusts into me. I moan in ecstasy as he lifts my hips, bringing my legs up over his shoulders so he can push deeper into me. He rolls his hips back and forth, gently, lovingly, and sometimes with just enough force to make my nerves sing. I grip the sheets desperately has he brings me closer.

"Ich liebe dich," I pant in between thrusts, giving him sloppy, clumsy kisses.

"Ti amo," he responds in his native Italian as his thrusts send me gasping over the edge, arching up against him, and clutching him close to me. A few more thrusts and he's arching, pushing himself deep into me as he moans my name. We both take a moment to catch our breath before he slides himself out. After he's done dealing with the condom, he comes back and wraps himself around me.

"Good morning," he whispers into my ear.

I let out a contented chuckle and twist around to kiss him. "G'morning." We lay like this for a while, basking in each other, caressing each other gently. Just as I start to drift off again, he kisses my neck and sits up in bed.

"Probably should be getting up," he smiles at me.

"I think we already did," I mumble, smiling at my own joke. "I don't know if I have another one in me."

He chuckles, low and rumbling, and kisses my forehead. "I was promised pancakes."

"Mmm, pancakes," I mumble. "You know what's even better than pancakes? Pancakes _in bed_."

Mars laughs and pushes me gently. "If you think that I'm going to go all the way to IHOP _by myself_, order pancakes to go, and bring them back to you so you don't have to get up, you are sorely mistaken."

I push my lower lip out in a pout, my eyes still closed as I revel in our afterglow.

"Although maybe we should bring back some maple syrup for round two."

My eyes open at this, and I chuckle at his enticing expression.

"C'mon," he nudges me. "Shower time." He pauses, but I only move a couple inches towards the edge of the bed. "We can do it together," he murmurs. I suppose that's worth getting out of bed for, so I sit up and he helps me stand.

Once we've showered, which frankly took much longer than it needed to, Mars helps me get dressed.

"You ready?" he asks me, kissing my neck.

"Not sure," I mumble, resting my head against his shoulder. My arm is aching, and I feel quite worn out from the morning's activities. "I think maybe I need to rest for a little before we go."

Mars nods and pulls me back onto him. After a few minutes of lying back against him with him running his hands through my hair, and possibly taking a short nap, I feel much better. I sit up and tap Mars on the shoulder. He smiles.

"I think I'm good now," I say as I pocket my pain killers as casually as I can.

"Alright, let's go get some breakfast."


	6. Chapter 6

I hold Mars' hand as we walk to the car and drive into town. The radio plays softly and I'm enjoying just being with him. We don't talk as he drives, sitting in comfortable silence. I run my thumb along the back of his hand, enjoying being alone with him. While I want pancakes, part of me just wants to be home with him, snuggled in bed naked. As we get closer to our destination, I feel anxiety seeping into my body, replacing the lovely relaxed looseness from earlier.

After he parks the car, Mars leans in to give me a kiss. As much as I want to keep the contact between us going forever, I dodge the kiss and pull my hand away. A small sad look flits across his face and I open my mouth to apologize but he turns and climbs out of the car. I sigh. That's always a good way to start a meal. I follow him into the restaurant.

Jealousy hits me as I see couples sitting close together, foreheads touching, holding hands across the table. Feeding each other off their plates. A sense of longing pulls at me as I look up at Mars. He's smiling politely at the hostess, but I can see the sadness behind his eyes. My stomach churns with guilt. If I was less of a coward, we could be clinging to each other and making lovey-dovey faces from across the table. I try to push those thoughts out as I push my hair back.

The hostess leads us to a table. The same table where I sat with Terry yesterday. Once we're seated, Mars pushes his leg heavily against mine. I jerk away from him. This table doesn't have a cloth like the one did last night. Nothing to hide such an intimate touch. I can't look at Mars' face, instead focusing on the menu, but I can sense that he's upset. This happens far too often; we plan a romantic meal out at a restaurant – okay so IHOP isn't _romantic_, but eating breakfast together after spending the morning making love? That is romantic. But once we get there, we remember that we're not supposed to be letting on that we're a couple. I sigh. I notice the woman to my right wears a sparkling engagement ring. I examine my bare finger instead of the menu.

My eyes fall on my cast, and I feel a rush of heat when I realize how stupid I'm being. How can I be sitting here pouting about not being engaged when my partner put me in the hospital just a couple of days ago. I frown down at my arm. When I look back up at my menu, Mars is watching me. He saw me frowning at my cast. It shows on his face. His eyes follow the cast up my arm before darting away to examine the floor. His jaw is clenched and he's biting the inside of his cheek. He looks so miserable. We had such a promising start to the day, but any hope of happiness seems to be slipping through our fingers.

"What are you going to get?" I force a smile and a lighthearted tone into my voice, but he sees right through it.

"Mmnot sure I'm actually all that hungry," he frowns down at the menu. My heart drops. I've ruined our lovely morning.

"Do you want to go home?" I ask him softly, apologetically.

He meets my eyes and takes a moment before he shakes his head. "Nah, we came all the way in here, might as well get something."

I nod. "Is there anything else you'd like to do before we go home?"

He looks at me absentmindedly, thinking it over. I think my distraction worked.

"I mean, at some point we're going to have to go grocery shopping. We got no food at home."

I nod, but the thought of grocery shopping instantly makes me feel heavy and tired. "Isn't that what takeout's for?"

He chuckles and I grin back at him, happy to see him smile.

The waitress comes over and I notice it's the same waitress from yesterday. Perhaps it's my mood, but she seems a little less friendly today. I shrug it off. Everyone has bad days, especially working in a place like this. They're always so busy.

I nudge Mars with the tip of my shoe, so we're just touching. The small gesture is appreciated, and Mars nudges his foot ever so slightly closer. We slip into pleasant conversation about a movie Mars wants to see. The tone of rest of the meal is better, but I can't shake a bit of a bad undertone from our squabble.

"I think that waitress has a crush on you," Mars teases as we leave.

I give him a baffled look.

"She was watching you quite intently the whole time."

I scrunch my face up at him. "Nein."

"She totally was." He pauses to look at me and drops his voice. "You're not saying much; should I be worried?" I open my mouth to tell him that of course he doesn't when I catch the playful smile tugging at his lips.

"Oh, I don't know," I grin back at him. "Y'know she really is quite my type with the skirt and the… breasts."

Mars guffaws at my pathetic portrayal of a straight guy. "You don't have any idea what makes women sexy, do you?"

I furrow my brow and open my mouth, wanting to argue with him, but he's not wrong. I shrug and handwave the comment. "Not in the slightest."

He smiles at me fondly before he climbs into the car. When I get in, he's chuckling at me.

"What? Like you do?"

His smile grows into a smirk and he nods arrogantly. "Yeah I do."

I scoff.

"Just because I don't happen to agree with it, doesn't mean that I don't understand it."

"Then what is it?"

He smirks at me. "Like I'd tell you. What if I explain it and you're like BAM I get it now and you leave me for some skinny slut?"

I roll my eyes. "You know skinny sluts aren't my type." I smirk as I watch him out of the corner of my eye. "I like my sluts big, muscle-y, and strong enough to push me against a wall."

"Oh?" he purrs. "That's funny, because I like my sluts small but toned, sweet, and easily flustered with just the right mix of innocence and desperation."

My face burns red hot and I have to look out the window to avoid spluttering embarrassingly.

"It's like we were made for each other," he marvels in fake awe, resting his hand on my upper thigh.

I shake my head and smile at him, putting my hand over his. He grins back at me, eyes crinkled.

"Did we decide if we were going to do something?"

"Nein. I'm happy just going home and having some time to ourselves."

Mars leers at me, humor making his eyes sparkle. "That's my slut."


	7. Chapter 7

The next few days pass easily enough. We have a couple of squabbles, but nothing that isn't fixed with muttered apologies and gentle kisses. We spend most of our time in bed, losing ourselves in each other, particularly after each fight.

Terry stops by every day with some thinly veiled excuse to make sure I'm okay. Mars and I both pretend not to know what he's doing. It's awkward, and Mars always get crabby and sulks for a while after each visit, but secretly I really appreciate Terry's tenacity.

Saturday afternoon, I'm lying in Mars' arms, dozing in our afterglow, when the doorbell rings. I start, but by the time I work out what's going on, Mars is out of bed and pulling on some clothes. I hear muffled voices before Mars calls my name. I push myself out of bed and pull some pants on. I must be taking too long, because Mars comes back into the room.

"It's Terry." He helps me get a shirt over my cast and runs his hands through my hair, trying to calm the matted waves.

I walk down the hallway, and the intense fear on Terry's face makes my heart drop into my stomach. I understand why Mars came to get me, and why he's not following me back out into the kitchen.

"Hey, how are ya?"

"Good," I smile, trying to shake the sleepy fog out of my head. He eyes me carefully and when I get within arms' reach of him, he grabs my good arm and pulls me close.

"Are you really okay?" He whispers, looking me up and down. I nod, but his eyebrows only furrow closer together. "You're limping a bit."

All the air immediately leaves my chest and I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks as my jaw drops open. I flounder for a response – any response – but he must figure it out on his own because his eyes go wide and he drops my arm, taking a step back and mumbling some sort of apology. We stand in awkward silence for what feels like ages.

"I brought Gigi back," he finally bursts out, pointing to the door. "If you guys need me to take care of him a bit longer, that's fine, but ah, I, uh, he misses you."

I smile softly at him and we walk out to the car. As soon as Gigi sees me, he jumps up and down in his travel crate. I pet him as much as I can through the gaps.

"Hey, buddy, did you miss me?" I pick up the crate. Terry grabs all his other supplies.

"Aw yeah," he nods before pulling a face. "Apparently I don't throw the ball right."

I chuckle at Terry's saltiness and let Gigi out of his crate as soon as we're inside. He runs around the house at full speed, bringing me one toy after another. I grin, watching him from my perch on a bar stool. It feels good to have him back – the final piece of our domestic puzzle.

"Thank you for taking care of him. It helped us to get back into the swing of things."

"Any time."

Mars comes down the hallway, smiling, excited to see Gigi. But Gigi growls at him, hackles raised. Mars' face falls. When he takes another step forward, Gigi barks at him, sounding ferocious despite his size. Gigi remembers last Saturday night, even if Mars and I don't. I pick Gigi up and Mars comes into the kitchen, holding onto his forearm where he needed stitches from Gigi's bites. He stays at the edge, not approaching us any closer.

"Uh," Mars starts, rubbing the back of his head. "I should probably go get some training in."

I nod. "Kevin's?"

He looks sadly at Gigi before he meets my eyes again. "Uh, yeah… yeah."

He edges up to me slowly, wary of Gigi's growls, and gives me a quick kiss on the top of my head. I pull him back down for a chaste kiss on the lips. He eyes Terry before his eyes dart to the floor.

"See ya later."

"Bye, love you." I smile.

His eyes dart to Terry again before he forces a small smile. "Love you too."

He leaves and I let the silence hang over us for a little, pretending to be oblivious to the awkward tension. Terry breaks the silence to double check that things that are okay.

"Ja," I smile. "It's actually been really good."

Terry nods. I can tell that he doesn't quite believe me. He fidgets with the paper bag that Mars left on the counter.

"Really, Terry. We haven't had any alcohol and we've been fighting a lot less."

"Just less?" He spins the bag around absentmindedly.

I sigh. "We haven't even really been fighting. Just minor disagreements."

"He hasn't hurt you at all?"

"Nein, not even close."

He eyes me carefully, accidentally knocking the bag over. A bottle of lube rolls out and onto the counter. My face drops as I watch it slowly come to a stop. Terry freezes, eyes wide and on the lube. His face twitches before it cracks into a smile. He covers his mouth in an attempt to stop it but ends up snorting into his hand. He shakes his head apologetically, but he can't stop the laughter.

"Things are really good, huh?" he splutters in between laughs.

I open and close my mouth wordlessly until a smile breaks across my face and I laugh along with him even though I'd quite like the earth to open up and swallow me whole right now.

"Alright," Terry shakes his head once he's calmed down. "Now that we've established how you two have been spending your time, is there anything else that you'd like me to know about your sex life?"

I bury my face in my hands, shaking my head. "No, no, I think you've learned enough for one day."

He chuckles and looks over me again, some of his seriousness returning but with a more relaxed air than before. "You're really doing alright?"

"Ja," I nod, looking him in the eye.

"And the ah – the limp – that's … you've… he's-" he sighs and massages his forehead. "All that," he gestures to the lube, "that's okay, too?"

I force the smile to stay on my face as I nod, holding my breath and clenching my jaw.

"I just, I don't know about… he's not causing you any harm that way either?" His face is bright red and he can't look me in the eye, but I can tell he needs to ask these horribly invasive questions, so he knows I'm okay.

"No harm – we're doing much better." It's seriously taking all my self-control to not try to burrow my way into the couch, through the wall, or anywhere else just to get away from this conversation.

He nods after scrutinizing my face for any hints that I'm lying. He sighs loudly, looking around the house, probably searching for another – any other – topic.

I hear a car door close and I look at Terry, surprised. I look out the window to see Brocken walking up the path, and I'm relieved that Mars has already left for practice. Gigi barks and I scoop him in my arms as I go to the door. I wave to Brocken. I turn around to say something to Terry, but my eyes lock onto the lube that still sits on the counter. My blood runs cold as I hear Brocken climbing the porch steps.

A strangled sound escapes my lips and Terry follows my gaze, his eyes widening when he pieces it together. I'm frozen, staring at it. Thankfully Terry's mind is working better than mine, and he scoops it up, putting it back into the bag and dashes down the hallway.

"Bathroom? Bedroom?" He asks, spinning indecisively in his panic.

"Bed." I manage.

"Where?" He's halfway down the hall. Brocken has reached the top step and I've lost my ability to speak English.

I move my mouth desperately, trying to find the words I need. "Bed table," I eventually call, a little too loud.

"What was that?" Brocken asks as he walks through the door.

"Ah, hallo Lehrer," I sputter, letting Gigi down so he can greet Brocken.

"Red table," Terry yells from the end of the hallway. Brocken gives him a puzzled look. "Ah I, I was thinking, y'know, Jaeger and I, and the gang, should go out to eat tomorrow and I was just asking Jaeger where he'd like to go."

I stare at Terry. What kind of explanation is that? Brocken looks back to me and I force a smile as Terry shrugs apologetically from behind Brocken.

"And I said…" my mouth hangs open as I search for any connection to a red table. "I liked the one with the red table."

"Yes!" Terry agrees a bit too enthusiastically. "The one with the red table."

Brocken looks between us dubiously before he shakes his head and smiles. "Leave it to you to remember restaurants by the color of their tables," he chuckles as he hangs up his hat and coat.

I let out an awkward chuckle and do my best to walk normally over to the couch, gesturing for the others to join me. Brocken follows and Terry gets himself a glass of water.

"Are you okay?" Brocken asks, eyeing me carefully.

"Ja, why?" I sit down.

"You're walking a bit funny."

Before I can answer, Terry makes a horrible wheezy, spluttering sound and snorts water all over the kitchen. My face feels like it's on fire and I suddenly find myself wishing I'd gone with Mars to his training. Terry coughs dramatically, shaking his hand at us in apology.

"You okay?" Brocken asks, one eyebrow raised.

"Oh yeah," Terry coughs. He pounds on his chest. "Wrong tube."

Brocken looks at me and I shrug with an awkward smile.

"Well, ah, I'd best be going," Terry mumbles, heading for the door.

"Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt-"

"Nah, nah, I was just dropping Gigi off and well, I've done that, so I'll ah… let you guys catch up. See you for lunch tomorrow, Jaeger?"

"Was?" I furrow my brow – we hadn't planned lunch. Brocken turns to look at me and Terry raises his eyebrows pointedly. "Oh – right – yes. Lunch. The red table."

He forces a smile that is absolutely not at all awkward, waves, and heads out. Silence hangs over us.

"They've got you on some pretty strong pain killers, huh?" Brocken asks eventually.

"Ah hah ah," I chuckle nervously. "I guess so. Did you ah… did you need anything?"

"Nein, I just wanted to come check on you. See how you're healing. Have you been doing your physical therapy exercises?"

I open my mouth to lie, but he sees through it before I can even say anything.

"Alright, come on, I'll help you."

We spend the rest of the afternoon working on stretching out my muscles and working them as much as we can to prevent atrophy. It somehow turns into a leg workout, even though my muscles are already burning and tired from my match with Mars. Brocken is unimpressed with my stamina.

"You need to keep up with your cardio, Jaeger," he scolds. "I know your injuries prevent you from training normally, but nothing about a broken arm makes you unable to go for a run. Make sure you get that heartrate up."

I want to tell him that my heartrate's been up plenty in the last few days, but I bite my tongue.

When we're done, he helps me to shower and into some clean clothes. He offers to make dinner and turns his nose up at the empty fridge. Even though I tell him not to worry about it, he makes a big fuss of scrounging up enough ingredients to make a half-way decent meal. We make small talk as he cooks and we eat together at the kitchen table.

"How are you, boy?" He asks, a serious expression on his face.

"Good," I force a smile. My phone pings loudly as I get a message. I look at and quickly type out a response before going back to eating.

"What was that?"

"Mars was just letting me know he's on his way home," I say through a mouthful of pasta.

Brocken nods slowly, moving to stand. "Then I should probably get going."

"You don't have to," I protest, not wanting him to ever feel unwelcome in my home. Not even when there's a bottle of lube sitting naked on the counter.

He gives me a small, sad smile. "You don't want me to be face to face with him, Jaeger."

I grimace. "We've been doing much better," I intend for my voice to be even and calm, but it comes out as more of a whine. "We've been completely sober. Haven't had a drop."

"Good." His smiles widens, almost reaching his eyes. "Keep it up." He hugs me tight. "Take care yourself, boy. Let me know if there's anything, _anything_, you need."

He grabs his hat and coat. "I love you," he says softly, hand on the doorknob.

"I love you too."

He gives me another small smile and leaves. I sigh, the heaviness of his tone laying on me. I finish eating, scoop Gigi up and settle in on the couch, lost in my thoughts and running my fingers through Gigi's soft fur.


	8. Chapter 8

When Mars gets home, Gigi barks at him for ten minutes straight, growling every time he moves. Mars holds his hand out to let Gigi sniff it, and he snaps his teeth at him. Mars reels back, eyes wide and sad. I pick Gigi up and bring him away from Mars, scolding him. He calms down a bit and I glance over at Mars, brow furrowed.

I don't know what to do about this. We can't just pretend that everything's normal when Gigi can't be in the same room as us. I chew on my lip. "Maybe if you feed him?"

Mars nods and sets about getting Gigi's dinner. I let him down, and he sniffs his way over to Mars, getting closer than he would before. He growls when Mars moves to pick up his food bowl off the counter, but stops when he realizes it's his food. He sits. Mars puts the food down and Gigi waits until he's given permission before he eats. While he's eating, he ignores Mars. Not great, but it's an improvement.

"Dinner's on the stove," I say, desperate to break the tense silence.

"Oh, you cooked?" He asks. "You shouldn't have, I would've-"

"Brocken made it."

"Oh." He pauses to look down at the pan with contempt, ladle still in his hand.

"Oh, go on and have some," I sigh as I massage my forehead. Another relationship I don't know how to fix. I briefly wonder if it's worth all this tension; if maybe it would be easier just to break it off with Mars. A wave of guilt instantly hits me, and I push the thought from my mind. He's brings his plate over to the couch and plops down next to me.

"It's Saturday night, what should we do?"

I shrug but I'm thankful for the change of topic. "We could go to the movies – there was that one you wanted to see."

"Hm, yeah, could do that," he nods. "And it if end up sucking, we can just make out." A devilish grin pulls on his lips. I smile back at him, shaking my head, and give his leg a gentle squeeze.

When he's done eating, we get changed out of our comfy clothes and head out. Gigi doesn't let Mars give him a pat on the head to say goodbye, but he doesn't growl like he had been.

The theater is busy – busy enough that Mars must think we won't stand out. He makes excuses to touch me, hands lingering on the small of my back as we walk through the door and fingertips brushing when he passes me my ticket. I want to give in, to let him wrap his arm around my waist or interlace our fingers. My heart races at the thought, but I pull away from his touch every time. My eyes linger on the couple in front of us in line at the concession stand, holding onto to each like they'd fall apart if they let go. I glance down at Mars' hand so close to mine and fantasize about the day when I'm ready to hold it and not give a damn about who sees or what they say. I fold my arms in front of my chest and force myself to look away.

"Why are you pouting?" Mars' voice pulls me out of my thoughts. "They still have cookie dough bites," he grins, playfully bumping my shoulder with his. I smile back at him, happy to have the distraction. He steps up to the counter.

"Hey yeah, can I get a large popcorn and a Heineken-"

I open my mouth to order a glass of wine, but I stop when I realize Mars' has cut himself off.

"Ah, no, actually, just the popcorn," he corrects, looking sheepish and avoiding eye contact with me.

"And I'll have some cookie dough bites please," I force a smile at the teenager behind the counter, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot with one hand on the mini fridge and one on a popcorn bucket.

"No Heineken?" he asks, looking between us.

Mars shakes his head. The kid shrugs and gets us our snacks.

"What theater are we in?" I ask Mars as we walk away. When he doesn't answer, I glance up at him to see him scowling at his feet.

"Hey," I nudge him gently, my voice soft. "It's okay. I was about to order some wine, too."

"Really?" He asks and I nod, but he shakes his head. "You're just saying that."

"No. Really – I was gonna get a glass of red Moscato. Didn't even thought anything of it until you caught yourself. My first plan was to get a whole bottle."

He smiles at me before rolling his eyes dramatically. "That stuff isn't even alcoholic. It's basically juice."

"Juice that gets you drunk," I chuckle as we pick our seats.

I tap my fingers against the armrest, trying to stop myself from opening my candy before the movie starts. I last about a minute before I break down and open the box. Despite trying to restrain myself, I reach the bottom of before the previews start. I pout at the empty box.

"Did you eat them all already?" Mars asks me when he notices. I nod, sticking my lower lip out further. He sighs loudly and asks me exasperatedly, "Do you want me to go get you some more?"

I nod, doing my best puppy eyes. He sighs again, groaning as he stands up, but we both it's all for show. He would've gone without me asking. "Ooh, and some skittles," I call after him.

He comes back just as the previews are about to start with two boxes of cookie dough bites and a bag of skittles. I grin at him and entwine my fingers with his once the lights dim and I've opened my next box.

"I guess I thought it was gonna be more about stopping the collapse of civilization and less about the dumbasses who can't even confess their feelings when the world is literally ending around them," Mars shrugs as he unlocks the car.

"Yeah, they did kinda stretch that out a bit," I agree as I climb in.

He nods and starts the car. Once we're on the road, he reaches over and puts his hand over mine. After a couple minutes of silence, he asks, "Are we such alcoholics that we can't even go to the movies without having a drink?"

I look over at him, surprised. His forehead is creased with worry lines.

"No," I say confidently. "That's just a habit. You're not being fair to yourself. And it's not like we even had the intention to get drunk; we just wanted to enjoy a good drink while at the movies."

"You were gonna get a whole bottle of wine."

I chuckle, "I had decided against it. Besides, you called it juice earlier."

A small smile graces his lips, but I can tell he's still worried.

"Look, it's really just a habit, and habits are hard to break. Not because you _need_ it, but because you're so used to it you do it without thinking, but you thought – you caught yourself. That's a good thing." I pause, trying to come up with something else to say. "It would be like me going to the movies and not getting candy. I just do it automatically."

"That's your example?" He raises an eyebrow at me.

"Yes, what's wrong with that?"

"Like you aren't hopelessly addicted to sugar."

I laugh and admit, "Okay, not the best example. It'd be like you not getting popcorn, then. We never even have it at home – it's just a routine for when we go to the movies."

He's silent for a moment before he nods. "Yeah, okay. And I did catch myself. And we didn't drink anything."

"Exactly," I say through a mouthful of Skittles. "And it's been about a week. I think we're doing really well."

He glances over at me hesitantly, but I give him a big smile to assure him I'm being serious.


End file.
